See, God or Allah or Goddess or the Almighty–whatever you call Him or Her, produces this Earth Show.
He’s hired a director, someone like Jesus or Buddha, except maybe they’ve never been planetary-bound, maybe someone like St. Oleander or Baba Racha or Sister Angellica Ruth.
We’re all souls, looking maybe like eggs in a carton, or maybe we’re flying around on invisible wings, behind the stage, waiting to audition.
Let’s call our director St. Archie. He’s smoking a Cuban cigar and sports a two-day beard.
“First call!” he shouts and the invisible souls rush toward him.
“One at a time!” he hollers, “We’ve got a million bodies coming up! Enough for all of you.”
He consults his clipboard.
“I’ve got a body down in Cleveland,” he says, “That’s USA. Good solid parents, sister with Down’s Syndrome, cross country in high school, studies to be a physician, dead of heart attack at 45. Anyone interested?”
Six souls rush over, sounds good, can we take it, please, let me, oh I’ve always wanted to be a physician and help people heal!
St. Archie points toward one of the souls, “You! Good, excellent. You lived so long last time with your Alzheimer’s, it will be good for you to come back sooner. Sure you want it?”
“Another body!” he announces, “Calcutta, India. No money. Two devout Hindu parents. Possibility of enlightenment in this lifetime, or at least advancement. Rough childhood, some starvation. Second half of life, monastery. Anyone interested?”
Sixteen souls raise their invisible hands. St. Archie shrugs his shoulders. It’s a heavy load picking the best players for the show.
“You, how ’bout you?” he says, pointing at one of the invisibles. “You did that prison term last time in Siberia and got really spiritual. You’d be good at this one. Heck, you might be able to reconcile everything this time and not have to try out for another play.”
He continues down his endless sheet of acting positions.
Sixty souls beg for early death–they’ve got other things to do in Heaven–small details to karmically clean up on earth.
“It’s the greatest show on earth!” St. Archie bellows, as a small contingency of souls gathers in the wings. “You’ll act your part for five or forty or eighty years, and then you get to come home. Act your heart out, people! It will be over so quickly, you’ll never know what hit you! You have a chance to learn, to embody a personality, to share your heart. You’ll get to grow, expand–maybe even realize what’s Beyond the Play! Not everyone gets a part… Now who wants a rather uneventful life in Germany, not much potential for opening the heart, but it’s a good starter two-bit part. Any newcomer souls? Anyone interested?”
**OK, readers, so sorry–I tried to meditate this morning but “lost it” in this little fantasy explaining why life on earth might be “fair”. See yesterday’s post if you’re confused. And, yes, you could call me “irreverent”, but “creative” sounds better, doesn’t it?
We had about a foot of snow yesterday and, according to my earth-script, it’s time to quit philosophizing and take out Ms. Canon Rebel and get some photos, don’t you think?